


Dead!

by slytherintbh



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate End, Communism kills, Death, Edd being adorable, Harpoon, The End Part 2, Tord being a shitlord, Tord suffers, when doesn't he
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6990805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherintbh/pseuds/slytherintbh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps Tord could have dodged that harpoon. It's all secondary, now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead!

It occurs to Tord, in those seconds, that he is dying. 

Perhaps attacking his old friends - ex-friends, really - was a very bad idea from the beginning. Paul had raised one eyebrow the moment he had initially mentioned it. Then again, Paul had been there when they had unwittingly destroyed his old army base with a tank; he’d been concerned enough when Tord had appeared one day, clutching a thick cigar with traffic-cone embers drifting into the air. It seems awfully long ago, although it can’t have been more than a few years. Five? Six? Wait, shit, that really is a while. Time has never been Tord’s strength.

A shaky hand wavers somewhere around his torso, drawing away with blotchy red paint. The agony is so powerful as to almost be secondary. Wrecked metal falls away from the robot, one piece smouldering as it drops to the grass. 

Heaving a rattling gasp, the man struggles to decide whether to move or not. In some cases it’s a person’s saving grace. For others, it’s their final movement. The rather sturdy harpoon embedded in Tord’s chest doesn’t seem to  _ want _ to go anywhere, so he stays put. There is a very small chance that one of his comrades could save him - 

A cough brings up a spurt of blood that makes Tord’s head spin. ‘Small’ is downgraded to ‘miniscule’.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, a single tear rolling down his cheek. The bot shifts slightly and he finds himself lying on his back, acutely aware of the sharp jolt of the harpoon slipping in response. Whatever noise he makes is entirely subconscious and maybe very loud. A collection of familiar male voices approach.

“I didn’t think it was going to land so quickly…”

“Honestly though, Tom? A harpoon?”

“It was what I had on hand. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t -”

“That’s not the point. Let me check and see if…”

Tord  _ really _ doesn’t want Edd to see him like this. They’ve known each other since high school, and the very idea that he might have to spend his last moments with  _ them _ is entirely abhorrent. To have the same people who watched him grow up watch him die seems far too bittersweet for a person like Tord. He deserves his army friends, all a little emotionally stunted and jaded, passing around a flask of something very very strong as they attempt to comfort him. Edd, Tord knows, will be far too good at making him feel important and loved and he’d far rather stay in the comfortable ‘total arsehole’ zone that he’s occupied for so long. Tom won’t offer any sympathy; good for him, utter git that he is and now a murderer to boot. Some part of Tord always wondered if one of them would kill the other and well, here he is. Matt will probably cry a lot and regret a lot, because he’s not  _ stupid _ per se, just intelligent in a different way to the norm. He’s in touch with his emotions in a manner that the others can only hope to envy.

Then dark brown hair appears over the side of the robot and Tord wants to look away.

Edd doesn’t seem to take it in at first. He blinks, brow furrowing, then raises a wavering hand to his head. And whoop de fucking do, there’s the  _ look _ . The premature mourning, the ‘oh shit’ that was both anticipated and that can never be prepared for. Edd braves a smile, a wobby “ _ Tord _ ” that causes any semblance of coherency to wash away.

It’s either that or it’s the blood loss and Tord is trying very hard not to think about the latter. 

Edd dithers. He clambers into the metal casket, pulling the black helmet off Tord’s head and throwing it aside. His eyes stray to the gaping wound in his chest, and Tord can see his thoughts pasted on his face. It’s not like Edd hasn’t seen him die. The clones took care of that - but Tord isn’t a clone. He’s the only one. The last. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Edd offers, unhelpfully, trying to mop the sweat from the dying man’s brow with a grubby green sleeve. “Is there…”

“No.”  Tord feels another bubble of blood burst on his lip and he winces, breath growing ragged. “No, there’s noth-nothing you can do.” 

“Do you want me to get the others?” It’s meant kindly, but Tom and Matt are the last people Tord wants to see. Aside from Edd, of course, but that ship sailed a long time ago.

“Not really,” he replies, fingers toying with the sharp end of the harpoon. The action is very tiring. “I don’t… I don’t…”

Darkness begins to blot out Tord’s vision and he swears he can feel certain organs shutting down like the slow  _ huff huff huff _ of an aged computer when the power is cut off, not quite agreeing to the sudden termination. He just about hears Edd warning the other two away, and only just catches the ringing of more feet entering the robot - Tom’s voice washes in and out and yes, Matt is crying. Paul and Patryk are nowhere to be seen but he almost doesn’t mind. They’ve been good friends to him, and they don’t deserve to have to deal with this.

Tord suddenly remembers that he’s been to hell before. 

It’s definitely where he’s headed. He’s never been the heavenly sort. 

A warm hand slips into his cold one as the sharp pain in his abdomen dulls, his eyes half-closed, musing on whether or not one can become a devil. Edd’s face wavers somewhere above his own, eclipsing the sun. A halo forms around his dark hair and Tord appreciates it as he falls asleep. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My sister got me back into Eddsworld and I am in hell. If you need a fellow fan to scream at then we are contactable at theredleaders on tumblr. This is trash. I don't know what I'm doing.


End file.
